There are signs I have entered a new season in my life. Spring has long been my favorite time of year, but what's blossomed into a year-round temperament is my affection for consistency...on all fronts.
I'd like to think this is a by-product of my 20-plus years in television news. Think about it: the news is always there. We are much like the post office without the increasingly frequent rate hikes. We deliver during the rain, sleet, and snow. Barring vacation or sickness, you know where to find me Monday through Friday at 5, 6, and 10 p.m. And I know where I am supposed to be. It's simple. It's straightforward.
Maybe the seeds necessitating this stability were planted when I was a child. The days were structured: school, homework, reruns of Andy Griffith and Little House on the Prairie, followed by dinner featuring a meat, a vegetable, a starch, and a glass of milk. Years later, I can still call my parents during dinner and know, without question, they're eating a meat, a vegetable, a starch, and drinking iced tea. I love the constants they provide. If my dad answers the telephone, he'll chat briefly and then say, "Hold on...let me get your mom." Invariably, if I say, "Dad, what are you up to?" He'll reply, "Oh...about 6 foot 6". That's been his reply since I could understand what height is.
In the changing and uncertain world we live in, isn't nice to have some things remain the same: relationships that form your bedrock and traditions that anchor your life.
The whole idea of "growing where you're planted" is all the more meaningful when
the garden is tended with consistency.